


Laundry

by QuidditchMom (eibbil_one)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-16
Updated: 2010-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eibbil_one/pseuds/QuidditchMom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione teaches Draco the joys of doing laundry the Muggle way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laundry

Hermione carried the old, rickety laundry basket down the back stairs of her parent's house with the ease of familiarity. Laundry had always been a soothing pastime for her. First during her tumultuous preteen years - a time when she knew she was different, but didn't know why. And then, during the torturous summer breaks, when she spent days not knowing whether her best friend was alive or dead at the hands of Voldemort.

There was just something about the categorical nature of cleaning clothes...sorting each type of fabric into piles, folding each shirt into pristine order...that soothed her. But this time, she wasn't finding it quite so soothing.

The grumblings from the man behind her were probably the reason, she grinned to herself.

"Hermione," he drawled out her name. "What exactly is the point of all of this? One simple spell and it would be clean and folded neatly upstairs and we could spend our time in a more enjoyable fashion..."

"Don't even go there, Draco Malfoy," she said primly over her shoulder, her tone implying the exact opposite of her words.

With a lascivious grin, Draco wrenched the basket from her arms, watched disinterestedly as it tumbled down the remaining stairs and backed Hermione into the wall. Once he had her properly situated, he ground his hips into hers and plundered her mouth. Even though she wore a robe, and he wore trousers, she could feel the heat of him pressing into her - a heat that sparked a fire in her soul.

Her righteous indignation about the mess he'd made of the laundry lasted only seconds as the thrill of Draco's mouth began to weave a spell around her senses; a familiar, blood pumping spell that he was able to cast just by being near her.

The fever in her blood notwithstanding, Hermione refused to be deterred. She'd promised her mum she'd get the laundry done. Nipping a bit harder than usual on his bottom lip, Hermione startled him just enough to extricate herself from his arms.

With a pouty expression, Draco watched as she placed the dirty clothes back in the basket and continued on to the laundry room off the kitchen. Resignedly, he followed her. Truth be told, he was a bit put out. He'd been all set to enjoy a leisurely morning in bed with his wife of two weeks, but she had nearly fled from their bed the moment she'd heard her parents head off to work.

And now, here they were -- the house to themselves and Hermione fussing over whites and darks, delicates and cotton. He supposed it didn't really surprise him. Over the course of their courtship, he'd come to love the little quirks that made up this woman. Her well ordered mind and Muggle childhood all combined into the lovely package that was his wife. And at the very least, he thought, he could let her do what she needed to do.

Another grin lifted the corners of his mouth as he recalled the way her rather logical and ordered mind went about making love. She knew just what pushed his buttons, and bless her heart, she'd never missed a button yet.

Figuring they could at least have a bit of fun once the first load had started, Draco kicked back in the kitchen chair to watch her. And nearly swallowed his own tongue.

Hermione's back was to him. She was bent over at the waist and picking up a pile of light colored clothes. And the sight that greeted him, that held him transfixed, was Hermione's adorable backside - completely bare to his gaze. The ardor he'd put on hold kicked back on, sending his blood into an immediate and rapid boil.

"Er, Hermione?" he croaked out, his throat dry.

"Mmm?" she said without turning around.

"Did you forget something this morning?" She had straightened up, but the memory of seeing her like that still swam before his eyes.

"I don't think so," she said simply, adding soap and switching on the wash cycle.

Draco's mind wondered if she really hadn't realized what he'd seen, or was playing coy. His libido didn't give a damn. Hunger for her filled his veins faster than the machine behind her filled with water. He stood from the chair and walked over to her, placed a hand on her hip, just teasing the hem of her short robe.

"Do you often do laundry without your knickers on?" Draco asked softly, his lips teasing hers with the tiniest of kisses.

"Well, yes. That way I can wash all of them. How did you know?"

The puzzlement that crossed her features was so genuine; Draco realized at once that her erotic stance had been nothing more than an accident. Didn't cool the ardor in his veins one whit, though.

"Let's just say you put on quite a show just now, love," Draco said, and then grinned as she blushed scarlet. With one hand, he grabbed her hands before she could use them to cover her face. And with the other, he slid his hand under her robe, and up her thigh. He found her center, and the bundle of nerves hidden there. He gasped deep in his throat when he found her ready for him. She met his eyes and couldn't help but grin at the astonishment on his face.

 

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked tentatively.

Draco answered nonverbally. In one smooth motion, he hoisted her up until she was sitting on the washing machine and fastened his lips to hers as if that caress was the only thing keeping him from slipping off the face of the planet. He had always been a passionate being - drawn by the heady feel of desire coursing through his body while in the arms of a willing witch.

But Hermione, from the very first taste of her lips, had been vastly different. Almost as if their senses recognized one another, as if their very blood and skin needed contact to be truly at harmony. And the first time they had made love, it had seemed more a joining of two souls rather than an act of physical pleasure.

Their tongues began to caress one another's in a fast and heated tempo. Draco's hands had left her hips to untie the silk robe and slip it from her shoulders to puddle on the machine. Once bared to his gaze, Draco pulled back just enough to take in a lingering glance before leaning forward to suckle on one rose tipped breast. He had a moment to enjoy the added height sitting on the machine gave her before her hands did some parting of their own.

As she continued to gasp and moan at his mouth's ministrations, Hermione managed to divest him of belt, trousers and boxers - pushing at the latter two with her feet to rid him of them faster. Once accomplished, she began to run her fingers up the front of his thighs, pausing only to tease the heated flesh that was straining for her.

"Shall we go upstairs?" she whispered when his mouth returned to hers.

"Why?" Draco asked, knowing there was no way in hell he'd get two feet let alone up the stairs.

"But we're...oh my," Hermione sighed as she realized his intention. He once again placed his hands to her hips, but then he paused. This _was_ her parent's house, after all...but the smile that graced her lush, full mouth gave him all the assent he needed to carry on.

He grinned back at her, pulled her forward and sheathed himself to the hilt within her pulsing, liquid flesh. Determined to take his time with her, Draco settled into long, smooth strokes - a lethargic rhythm that drove Hermione mad with pleasure every time.

But the washing machine had other ideas.

Just as he had settled into a pace designed to tease Hermione slowly towards climax, the machine she was sitting on began to vibrate beneath her hips. It should have been unpleasant, or, at the very least, unsexy. But it was neither. The shuddering radiated out into both of them, eliciting surprised and throaty moans from both lovers.

Draco increased his pace, feeling desperation and need rising in both of them as the machine continued to shake beneath them. He nearly lost his head entirely when Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist. The added closeness, coupled with the more intense vibrating sensations, spurred him to greater heights. Hermione, he could tell from her labored breathing and soft gasps, wasn't unaffected either.

Before he was quite ready, Hermione screamed his name as wave after wave of her climax crashed over her. He tried to hold out, but the contractions that were enfolding him in the most intimate of embraces sent him flying after her.

Once they had returned to earth and righted their clothing, Draco and Hermione sat at the table together, giggling over their coffee. Draco took her hand and smiled.

"You know, love. I reckon you're right."

"About what?"

"There _is_ something rather soothing about doing laundry the Muggle way."


End file.
